Tapping the Barometer
by TangerineFields
Summary: A rupture in Remus and Sirius' domestic bliss is remedied by Bram Stoker and a tap of the hall barometer. RemusxSirius. First Wizarding War.


A/N: I've always been fascinated by my Grandparent's barometer, and while I was staring at it today and praying it would stop raining, this popped into my head. Don't panic, it brightens up rather quickly :)

Disclaimer: Sirius and Remus' occasionally blissful domesticity is the property of J. K. Rowling.

**Tapping the Barometer**

"Fuck's sake, Rem!" Sirius pounded down the stairs, slamming his hand into the open door, and setting Remus' precious barometer swinging. "If you go ahead with this I swear I'll-"

"What?" Remus turned slowly, battered suitcase in hand, usual composure utterly departed. "Lock me in the bloody cellar? Chain me to the bed?"

At any other moment, the latter suggestion would have sent Sirius' mind into hungry spirals but instead, he increased the pressure he was exerting on the innocent door and reached out his hand for Remus' suitcase. "Do you really believe this is helping?"

"I can't stay here."

"Remus." Sirius' fingers fastened around the handle on the suitcase and their eyes met, grey and gold burning furiously. "Go back to bed."

"I'm not your misbehaving child, Sirius."

"No, you're my lover, and you're attempting to walk out on me because I might have suggested that your leaving for Cornwall on some bollocksed, piss take of an errand was a fucking stupid idea."

Remus snatched the case away from Sirius' long fingers. "I shall leave on a fool's errand if I see fit, Sirius. I don't remember the moment your word became law."

"Remus! For fuck's sake!"

"Sirius," Remus' knuckles had whitened around the handle of his suitcase. "Let me out."

"No."

"Sirius," Remus took a step forward, until their noses were almost touching. "Open the door. Now."

"Fuck no! If you think I'm about to let you march out and get yourself fucking killed because you're too proud to admit that there is no way you can carry this-" Sirius stopped abruptly and reeled back, colliding with the door as Remus' fist collided with the side of his head. He felt the slick weight of blood as it slunk from his nose, and mixed bitterly with his saliva.

For a while neither of them spoke until there was the dull bang of Remus' dropping his suitcase. "Fuck it," he muttered, and then turned to head back upstairs, but Sirius grabbed him by the shoulders and held him fast in the dreary light of the hallway.

"You hit me," he said.

"Yes," Remus watched the blood as it pooled on Sirius' upper lip. "I did."

"Gods," Sirius tentatively touched his nose, and then stared at his fingertip when it came away crimson. "I mean, that was impressive."

Remus allowed himself a smirk. "Teach you to get in my way."

The light that had appeared in Sirius' eyes flickered and died. "Don't leave, Rem."

"I-" Remus swallowed and glanced down at his suitcase and then raised his head, and looked at Sirius, still backed against the door, and smiled. "Fine. I was being stupid, and you were being a bastard but I'm sorry I was so pigheaded about it."

"Yeah," Sirius shrugged, "I'm sorry I was so fucking blunt."

"Well done," Remus moved forward, and placed his hand gently against Sirius' cheek. "Trolls could have been more subtle."

"I love you," Sirius murmured, "It's hard to be coherent when I'm shitting myself about you getting torn to pieces by some bonkers werewolf coven in Cornwall."

"I thought," Remus smiled, "That you would have learnt by now not to underestimate me."

"Hmm," Sirius leant forward, and kissed him softly. "Well, I suppose that would all depend on how effective that right hook is against psychopathic lycanthropes."

"Rather, I'd imagine," Remus mumbled, the iron tang of blood in his mouth leading him to regret hitting Sirius quite so hard, "From the look of you."

Sirius growled and then glanced at Remus and started to laugh. "You look like a fucking vampire, Remmy."

Remus bared his teeth and hissed, "Bram Stoker based Dracula entirely on yours truly, did you know that?"

"I assume then," Sirius grinned, running a hand through Remus' hair, "That the accent would not be a problem for such an accomplished muse as yourself?"

Remus paused and then threw an arm across his face and adopting a voice that would have been rather impressive if he'd have managed not to laugh, "I vant to suck your blood!"

Sirius creased. "Merlin, Rem, I love you."

"Then you better watch your neck tonight, Black." Remus grinned wickedly at him, lightly shoving Sirius back against the front door with a soft thud and sweeping in to drop a winding line of kissing down to his collarbone.

"Shit, Rem," Sirius murmured, as Remus' teeth nipped the skin below his jaw. "If all vampires do foreplay like this, I am becoming a fucking Death Eater."

Remus lifted his head, and grinned at him. "Who said this was foreplay?" He glanced toward the barometer, keeling on the hallway wall. "I don't think I've forgiven you yet."

Sirius followed his gaze, and then swore, and pulled him close for a smouldering kiss. "Oh fuck the barometer, Rem. If you think I'm waiting for bloody fair weather again, you've got another thing coming."

Remus broke away, and reached out a finger to tap the cold glass. "It's falling."

Sirius growled. "Yes, which is what you'll be doing the moment we get upstairs. Falling into fucking bed, with me, come fair weather, rain or particularly breezy Sundays, I honestly," he kissed Remus again. "Don't give a shit."


End file.
